


Where is my mind?

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: Where is my Mind? [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blindfolds, Consensual, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pre-Series, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Wincest - Freeform, blindfold kink, blowjob, jealous/angry!dean, tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are in a fight and Sam's "teenage rebellion" leads to something very unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where is my mind?

"Where's Sam?" John boomed as soon as he got home at around seven and saw only one of his boys packing his belongings. They were leaving yet another town on the edge of nowhere. Dean was perfectly fine with leaving this shithole behind. Sam, however, was sixteen and even though he said he could care less about the people he had met in his new school (of three months), Dean knew the idea of picking up and leaving everything they had begun to work towards bothered Sam. Always bothered Sam.

"I don't know." Dean had begun to panic as soon as he heard John's pick-up pull up in the driveway. Sam was Dean's responsibility and Dean hadn't seen him at all since his school let out at 3:15. He had waited an hour for him in the parking lot where he usually picked him up then decided to drive back to the house alone.

"You try his cell?" Dean had tried his cell—the one Dad gave each of them in cases of emergencies—countless times but got no answer.

"Yeah, he didn't pick up."

"What do you mean he didn't pick up? Where was he after school?" John boomed, dropping some bags down and coming over.

"I don't know, he just didn't show." Dean thought Sam was still upset at him over an argument they had the other day. Apparently Sam had been invited to this party and Dean told him he couldn't go. He knew Dad wouldn't allow it. They were Winchesters. They didn't get invited to parties because they were never in any town long enough to get to know people. And even if they did get an invite, they never attended them. Because they couldn't get involved. Dad had told Dean all of this and so Dean had told Sam and Sam hadn't understood, said he was being "ridiculous." So, that created a falling-out between them, but then the very next day Dean had to tell Sam they were leaving, packing up and ditching Pierz. That set little brother off and he had yelled and shoved Dean, claiming Dean "always listened to whatever Dad said without question" and he "didn't understand."

"So enlighten me, Sam!" Having a teenage brother was as bad as they all said. Maybe he didn't understand. Like why Sam insisted on appearing "normal" and fitting in when he clearly knew that kind of life wasn't cut out for them. Never had been.

"Doesn't it bother you, running around all the time, chasing after _ghosts_ and whatever the hell else Dad decides needs to be killed?" Sam argued.

"What the hell are you taking about?"

"You just do whatever he says, don't you? I mean, do you even have a brain of your own?" Sam looked like he felt bad the moment the words came out of his mouth, but still he stood his ground against Dean. Dean's natural reaction was to punch Sam out. He actually clenched his fist but decided to just walk it off instead. He was used to hearing hurtful words coming from Sam, only they weren't usually directed at Dean.

They hadn't settled things in the week that followed. So Dean thought this was yet another glorious act of Sam's teenage rebellion.

"Didn't show, Dean?" John walked over to Dean, his low voice resonating in the emptiness of the room. "And you didn't think this was worth mentioning to me at all? You waited _four hours_ to tell me you simply _don't know_ where your brother is?"

"Dad, I'm sorry... I'll find him." Dean tried to suppress the shake in his own voice.

"You better, boy."

Dean sat in the Impala staring at his phone that just kept telling him the line he was trying was out of reach. He cursed and tossed it on the seat and just thought for a second. _If I were Sam... where would I want to be right..._ Of course! The stupid party. That was tonight; Friday. Dean remembered now. He cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.

Dean managed to get the number of one of Sam's classmates and got an address to where the party was being held.

 

xxx

 

Sam didn't understand what Dad and Dean's problem was. He hated that they dictated his life. And no matter what Dean went along with whatever Dad said. It was easier for Dean. He wasn't in school, he was more involved in hunts with Dad now, he followed Dad's lead. And today they were picking up on one of those leads and moving somewhere that wasn't as remote as Pierz. Which Sam had somewhat come to accept, after all, he had no choice. It wasn't as though anyone actually asked him if he was okay with it. They weren't set to leave until sundown, so he had went on a whim to this party he was invited to by two of his friends from school named Allison and Peter. He had only been invited to parties a few times in his life, but he had never actually been to one. Today, he was making his own decisions.

Allison was the blonde cheerleader and Peter was—Sam thought—her boyfriend. They were strange. They did things that both confused Sam and mesmerized him, and that was what attracted him to them in the first place. Like, they danced when there was no music. They smoked. Sam saw them blowing smoke into each other's mouths once after school. They seemed like one person, they were always together. Everyone kept their distance from Allison and Peter, called them freaks. But they somehow took a liking to Sam and Sam liked that with them he felt at ease. Like he wasn't the only one that was a freak. Like maybe he wasn't even a freak at all.

It started out with a game of truth or dare. Just a little giggle-inducing harmless fun, but then the crowd started to dwindle and disperse, and at around eight-thirty Allison and Peter led Sam into a secluded room in the basement of the house. They had been drinking. They offered Sam a beer but he refused because he never understood the glamor in getting drunk and stupid.

"Come, Sam, we're gonna play a little game," Allison said, her voice heavy and excited.

"He won't," Peter said, shutting the door. The room was dark, just a single dull bulb overhead. It looked like a storage room with no actual storage.

"He will," Allison rebutted.

Sam looked between them and shrugged. "What's the game?"

"See," she started, giving a little nod to Peter. Peter came up behind Sam and fabricated a long piece of cloth that he tied securely around Sam's eyes, blinding him. Sam's hands shot up, fingering over the fabric.

"It goes like this..." Allison's voice was low and full of intent. Sam felt her hands on his shoulders guiding him back to where he hit into a table or something, and she forced him to sit on it. His hands were knotted behind his back by another cloth. Sam's stomach flip-flopped but he wasn't entirely sure if it was just nerves or if some remote part of himself, perhaps somewhere stowed away in his subconscious, was excited.

 

xxx

 

"Where's my brother?" It didn't seem like much of a party to Dean. Just low music playing slow and rhythmic and a few sporadic clusters of people standing against walls or sitting on the floor. He had asked around if anyone knew where Sam was but none of them really answered him. They seemed stoned or drunk. He scoured the top and middle floor with no luck. He was sure this was the place. He sped down the steps of the basement and saw a few people sitting on couches and then two at the back, a girl and a guy, next to a door conspiring. He recognized them. When he came over, they eyed him up.

"What did you do to him?" Dean questioned in a huff, and their dark eyes glimmered and the girl smirked.

"He's all ready for you." She sneered eerily. Dean tensed at her tone of voice, at the darkness and dinginess of the basement, at the possibility of Sam being hurt. He clutched the doorknob and turned it slowly, hesitating. _He's all ready for you..._ Whatever the fuck that meant.

Sam was there, in the middle of the dark room half-sitting half-standing on an isolated table, naked except for a pair of navy blue boxers. He was blinded by a piece of white tattered cloth over his eyes and from what Dean could see his hands were also clasped tightly behind his back. Dean's heart sped up, the door behind him shut. At first Dean panicked, but as he gradually took in the sight, he realized Sam didn't look scared or like much of a victim. The front of his boxers was obviously tented and he kept shifting his body, lean muscles tightening and flexing. Dean barely saw his brother—the boy Dean would wash up after meals and cook for and whose back he would rub when he was sick. That boy was gone. At first, Dean wasn't even sure it was Sammy. But he recognized his swollen red lips and the slight pixieish upturn of his nose. His brown hair was stuck to his cheeks in little wisps and some stuck out around the blindfold. Sam spread his legs a little. Even from where Dean was standing, he could hear Sam's unsteady breaths, quick and abrupt. His long, golden limbs trembled anxiously, waiting to be touched, it seemed. The front of his boxers kept twitching in anticipation. Puberty had _definitely_ been kind to this kid. His little brother was clearly not so little anymore. Dean clenched his teeth and his fists. So this was the kind of crap Sam did with his friends from school. This was the kind of shit he got into. Probably drunk or high, just like the rest of them. Off his game. Tied up in the fucking basement of someone's house, vulnerable and naked, ready for the taking, and fucking loving it. Dean had spent his life trying to teach Sam everything he knew about protection, defense against monsters, the wrong kind of people... Well, apparently that had all gone in one ear and out the other. Dean wasn't sure whether he wanted to beat the crap out of him or—

"Are you gonna touch me?" Sam shifted, his chest rising a little. His voice was shaky. Nervous but not scared.

Dean came a little closer. Yeah, he was gonna touch him alright. His fist was going to collide with his goddamn face. He was gonna yank that stupid blindfold off and clock him one. Or two. Or better yet, bring him home to Dad like this. Hah! Imagine that!

When Sam heard Dean come closer he leaned back a little on his wrists and spread his legs further apart on the table so that Dean fit in between them. Dean couldn't bring himself to hurt Sam, though, seeing him like this... So vulnerable, so oblivious. So... naked. Instead he put hot, trembling hands on Sam's knees, looking over his body. Sam's chest was rising and falling rapidly under a sheen film of sweat, he was breathing heavy through his nose. He just let Dean touch him. Probably thought he was that other fucker, the one outside the room. The thought only made Dean want to touch Sam more, maybe dig his fingers in and make it hurt a little, leave a mark. He slid his palms up Sam's thighs, the skin underneath smooth and warm. Sam didn't say anything, but his body did all the talking. Dean noticed Sam's dick jerking underneath his boxers every time he got close to the insides of his thighs. It made Dean's heart tighten in his chest. A similar feeling to the first time he killed a vamp on his own, chopped its head clean off. Terrified and excited all at once. Dean's hands slid over Sam's hips, up his bare stomach to his chest, feeling the hardness of Sam's nipples. He thumbed over them, pressing in and hearing Sam try to hold back a whimper in response. And okay, maybe there was something wrong with him, maybe he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, but Dean was more than pissed and he wasn't thinking clearly. And Sam only seemed to want it, want everything he had to give.

 

At first, Sam thought Peter had just decided to take things slower this time. When he had torn off Sam's shirt before he hadn't been too concerned with Sam's comfort. He had rubbed over Sam's chest, up and down in quick motions as he sucked his neck. Then Allison had come in, and she had much smaller hands and enjoyed toying with him more. She had kissed him and swirled her tongue around in his mouth and taken his pants off. Sam didn't know what kind of sick game this was, and couldn't help but wonder if he was even the first person they played it with, but they seemed to get some sort of twisted enjoyment from it. He was excessively skittish, and his heart kept leaping over beats and fluttering around, but he didn't tell them to stop once.

But the hands that touched him now were gentle, slow, uncertain. They touched him all over, almost admirably, but in a kind of experimental manner that Peter's hadn't had. But they also felt... familiar. It wasn't until Sam pulled the stranger in closer with his legs that he knew for sure. He'd recognize that scent anywhere. Leather, gunpowder and cheap cologne. It was Dean. He didn't know how or why he was here, but he didn't care. Dean's mouthed opened at Sam's neck, sucking bruises into the skin, setting off tiny sparks in Sam's body, shooting straight to his dick. It should have been disgusting, knowing that it was his big brother, but it wasn't. Because Sam wasn't scared anymore. Granted, Dean was probably pissed at him and wondering why the fuck he was tied up naked on a table, but none of that mattered now. Dean was touching him and it felt amazing. Dean's hands rested at Sam's hips as Sam found Dean's lips and dove in blindly, tasting his tongue briefly and sucking at his plump lips. Sam pushed his hips up and their cocks ground together even through the layers of clothing, and Sam heard Dean grunt softly in his mouth. Sam wanted to touch him back, kept tugging at his binds absent-mindedly, wrists aching behind him and supporting his writhing body. Dean was feeling him all over, hands sliding up and down his thighs as he buried his face in Sam's neck. Sam bit back a whimper. He was impossibly hard, his cock aching for touch in the confines of his boxers. He probably should have been embarrassed, but he wasn't. He wanted it. Apparently Dean did, too. Sam fell back on his elbows uncomfortably, one of his legs hanging off the table and the other coming up around Dean. Dean's crotch pressed up against his own and Sam felt just how much Dean seemed to be enjoying this; a hard bulge firmly dug right into the crevice of Sam's hip. Sam desperately tried to grind against him with the little leverage he had, but Dean only pulled away and mouthed his way down Sam's front, teeth briefly nicking at the tender flesh of his right nipple. Sam gasped and arched his back. The table dug in and he was slipping off, so he tried to wriggle his way up. He felt his cock nudge something warm, could have been a chin. Dean's hands slid his boxers clean off, all the way down his legs. Sam heard them fall to the floor. He squirmed around, trying to find a comfortable position and suddenly feeling very exposed. But Dean's hands were back at his hips, fingers spreading over the cheeks of his ass. When he felt Dean's hot breath cascade over his sensitive cock, he shuddered. A wet, slippery tongue flicked over his tightened balls and then slid all the way up his shaft. Sam groaned, all of his muscles clenching tight with heightened pleasure and nerves. A hand came up to tightly fist his cock and Sam tensed up, right on the edge. All it took was Dean's lips opening around him, feeling the inside of Dean's mouth suck him down vigorously once, twice, and then Sam was coming, crying out and jerking in his brother's tight hold. He felt wet spatters hit his stomach over and over as Dean's hand worked him through it and then released him too soon. His cock fell in a slimy pool of his own come and Sam instantly needed to be touched again. He felt it still, the lingering strain, right in the pit of his stomach. He kept twitching, and by now he was breathing so heavily he was moaning, and he couldn't shut up.

He felt Dean come back in between his legs and separate them a little as he dove for Sam's neck again. Sam turned so that his lips caught Dean's and they slid their mouths together, Sam's tongue pressing against Dean's lower lip. Dean groaned low in his throat. Sam could tell he was trying to be quiet, like Sam didn't know it was Dean like ten minutes ago. Anyway, Sam liked it. Liked that he couldn't see him. It somehow made this all less real. Dean dove for the other side of Sam's neck and opened his teeth on his skin, driving them hard right against the vein and sucking at the marks after. He ground his rough jeans against Sam's bare cock and the buckle of Dean's belt kept catching and scraping against him.

"Are you gonna fuck me?" Sam breathed, eager hips pushing up against Dean. Dean didn't answer for a long time. Just kept his lips at his neck, contemplating. Like if he spoke it'd give him away.

"Do you want me to...?" Dean mumbled into his neck. His voice was low and shaky, almost predatory. Sam had never heard it like that before. He couldn't believe what was happening. Was there something wrong with them?

Sam nodded quickly, anxiously, and Dean pulled away from his neck. For a moment Dean didn't even move. Sam still felt him above him, so he leaned up to catch his mouth again but Dean pushed him back down roughly by the shoulders and spun him around on the table. Sam's cheek collided with the wood hard and he winced, his head and nerves spinning wildly. Dean fumbled with the knots at his wrists, tearing through them one after the other, and Sam would have been grateful if he could even think clearly. At long last his hands were free, and Sam barely had time to stretch them out before Dean was turning him over again, calloused hands gone from tender to roused in minutes. He pushed one of Sam's legs up on the table and held it there, pulling his hips just to the edge. Sam heard some fumbling with a belt buckle and zipper, and then Dean came over him again. Sam wanted to see him. If he was fucking losing his virginity he wanted to see his brother. He reached up to the blindfold around his eyes and was about to lift it off but Dean's hands gripped his tightly and pushed them away, over his head and planted them on the table firmly. Dean still thought he didn't know. Dean kissed him again, deep and wet and loud. Then Sam felt fingers pushing at his lips and he opened his mouth to suck them in. Dean wasn't talking for obvious reasons, but Sam just wanted to hear him. He got Dean's fingers all wet and for a moment thought Dean was going to prepare him, open him up a little first, but the jerk just used Sam's saliva as lubricant and began to push at his hole right away. It wasn't fitting in at first, and it hurt like hell. Sam moaned and went to grab Dean's hand but Dean slapped it away. Sam gripped on to the table instead and Dean worked his hole open impatiently with slow, aborted thrusts. Sam was still rock hard and feeling Dean slowly moving inside his body was only increasing his desperation. After a few long thrusts completely inside, it didn't really hurt anymore. Just began to build up this intense pleasure that only seemed to keep rising. Dean sped up. Sam held on to him and the table moved under them and made dragging sounds as Dean pushed. Dean was still wearing a t-shirt, from what Sam could feel. His hands slid up the cotton, finally able to touch his brother, and came up to his neck. He felt the cord of a necklace around his neck and thumbed at it, but then Dean grabbed his hands again and spun him around. Sam tried to support himself, getting his weakening knees under him, and Dean only held his back down and fucked into him harder, huffing and groaning messy into the nape of his sweaty neck. Sam breathed into the hard wood of the table, smelling the strong scent of its varnish and his chin smearing all over it, wet with humidity and sweat. The angle of Dean's thrusts felt better this way, the pressure in his gut rising and all of his muscles tightening up around Dean's thick cock. Sam's fingers bore into the table, and with every push of Dean's hips Sam slid a little bit higher up. Dean had kept his clothes on: Sam could still feel his jeans and the scrape of the belt hitting his ass every time Dean drove in deep. It was hard and it was messy and Sam had never felt anything like it in his life. He didn't even know it was possible to feel this much pleasure from pain. He gasped and choked as he came for a second time, the head of his straining cock dragging against the edge of the table repetitively, contracting and spasming and leaking. He could barely breathe. It was too much. Too good it hurt. Dean held him in place as Sam shook and gasped for air. Dean slammed into him two more times and then Sam felt his face pressing into his back. Dean barely cried out. He stifled all of his sounds in Sam's hot skin. Sam felt impossibly full and knew that Dean had just come. Dean slid in and out a few more times, more easily now, slowly, catching his breath. After he pulled out, Sam lay there, heaving. He felt something trickling out of him warm and sticky.

"You okay?" Dean said very softly, his voice lower than usual.

Sam was freaking fantastic. Sure he still couldn't quite breathe properly or speak and every muscle and bone in his body was sore, but he was great. Maybe a little too great. He nodded, and then Dean spun him back around on the table, handling his limp body with the fraternal care and affection Sam was used to. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean and then brought him down by the neck and kissed him one more time, refraining from smiling against his lips, completely sated and wrung out.

When he reached for the blindfold this time, Dean didn't stop him. Sam tore it off and blinked a few times. Dean was above him, shutting his eyes tightly, unmoving. His brow was furrowed, blonde lashes fluttering under them, lower lip curled back in anxious dread. Sam reached up and cupped Dean's face, thumbing over familiar honeyed freckles. Dean pulled back and opened his eyes, confused and startled. Sam propped up on his elbows and smirked a little knowingly.

"Sam...? Why aren't you freaking out?" Dean backed away, tucking himself back in his pants.

"I knew it was you, Dean," Sam said almost guiltily, and then plucked his boxers off the floor. "Pretty much the whole time."

"What?" Dean was at a loss for words. "...How?"

"Your smell. It's that cologne you stole from the drug store and your leather jacket. I'd know it anywhere." Sam slipped into his boxers and found his pants disregarded under the table and got them back on, too, zipping up the zipper and fastening the belt.

Dean ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Sam got his shirt on even as Dean just stared.

"What the hell, Sam?"

"What?"

"I mean what... What even is this...? This the kind of crap you get into when I'm not around? Huh?"

Sam shook his head. "This wasn't even supposed to happen. It started out as some stupid game of truth or dare and it just got outta hand."

"Yeah, I bet," Dean scoffed. "You call those people your friends? I mean, I thought Dad and I taught you better than that."

"Dean, I would have never... I knew it was you..."

"Did you, Sam?" Dean didn't look like he even believed him. Obviously he was still pissed. "I mean, I come in, I find you like... Like _this._ " Dean gestured at the table.

"Dean, don't turn this all on me. You're the one who fucked me, remember?"

"You wanted me to! Or maybe you wanted that other punk-ass kid out there to."

Sam was sore and tired. He had thought taking off the blindfold would make things better, but apparently he was wrong. He just wanted to crawl up in a hole and die. His eyes began to water of their own accord.

"I can't even believe you right now. You're actually getting _mad_ at..." Sam couldn't finish. His throat clogged up and cut him off. Dean's eyes flickered down, and Sam tore the door open and stormed out. He didn't even want to look at Dean or be near him.

He just wanted to leave. To leave everything. To fall asleep in the back of the Impala listening to the engine rumble underneath him as he was taken away to a new place.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write a blindfold kink fic... I wasn't even planning on it but I think this needs a second part.. to make up for the abrupt ending :p


End file.
